Land of the Lost
by Waffle0
Summary: Calla Mellark never expected her life to be anything less than normal. She'd grow old District 12, she'd have a family, she'd live her life perfectly. But when Calla and her twin brother, Rye, are both reaped for the 100th Annual Hunger games, her life crumbles beneath her feet. How can they manage to stay alive when succumbing to death is so much easier?


**A/N: Hi everyone! Here is the first chapter of the Land of the Lost. I'm very excited to get started with this group of characters. It's slightly smaller than last time, but that means I'll just heavily focus on the characters I've received. Next chapter will be the second half of the District 7 reaping as well as District 12's reaping. Please review if you're enjoying it! Thanks to all who have stuck with this story, I'm more than thrilled to have you all on board.**

* * *

"Why do we do this every year?" Calla asked her mother bitterly as she ran a comb through her wet, curly hair.

"It's tradition, Cal. These people, Haymitch, Griffin, Zoe, are just as much your family as your father and I are."

Call sighed, she _knew_ that. Haymitch had been there when Rye took his first steps and Griffin had become Calla's first babysitter and Zoe had pep talked her before her first date. The fact that they had become her family didn't make the annual Feast of District 12 Victors any less unbearable. Katniss and Peeta, although, had a strong affinity for both Griffin and Zoe; they'd become their second children, for lack of a better word.

Call remembers, as a child, watching her parents mentor both Griffin and Zoe. She remembered spending weeks at Haymitch's house while her parents went to the Capital. Each year, aside from the two that District 12 had won, her parents would come home with nothing more than blood on their hands.

The doorbell rang, sending a low vibration around the house. She could here Rye running down the stairs to get to the door, his feet hitting down on the whitewashed stairs. It sounded like a freight train.

"Rye! Slow down, for God's sake," Calla heard her eldest sister, Paige, scold. "You're going to run someone over if you don't slow the hell down."

Standing next to Calla, brushing her own hair, it was Katniss's turn to scold Paige. "Language, Paige!"

"Sorry, Mom." Paige leaned into the doorway, smiling sweetly. "There's no damn way it will happen again."

"You asshole," Calla said dramatically, throwing a towel at her sister.

Paige looked at Katniss with wide eyes. "You're not going to yell at her?"

"You're both too much work," Katniss said as she left the bathroom, throwing her hand in the air.

Paige and Calla continued to bicker all the way down the stairs, nearing bumping into Zoe and her glass of wine. Zoe looked like one of the rich girls you see in the more affluent part of District 12; striking blonde hair and eyes that could shatter glass. She looked shockingly like Katniss's sister, at least in the pictures Calla has seen. Griffin, on the other hand, looked straight from the Seam. Going into the games, he was as scrawny as they come. In the last few years, he's gotten taller, larger, and more good looking.

Zoe steadied Paige, grasping onto her shoulder before hugging her. "Paige," she said with a smile before moving onto Rye and then Calla. "Cal, Rye. Nice to see you. You haven't changed at all."

Rye laughed, full and rich a hearty. "It's almost like we saw you last week."

"It's funny how that works, isn't it?" Griffin said, stepping into the doorway. He handed a bouquet of flowers to Katniss before giving her a friendly kiss on the cheek to Calla and Paige. He gave Rye a strong clap on the back.

"Where's Haymitch?" Zoe asked, setting an envelope down on the table.

"Late," Paige said. "Like normal."

"It's seven o'clock," Haymitch said from the sidewalk next to their house. He carried a bottle of wine in his hand as he neared. "Not late."

The dinner table wasn't long or fancy; it was simple, just enough space to fit everyone who was eating. Peeta had cooked dinner; lamb with potatoes. It was painfully simple, but the same thing they had every year. It made all of this charade feel normal.

They ate late into the night, talking and laughing, the adults tipsy from their wine. It was almost as if tomorrow didn't exist.

* * *

The air in District 7 felt thinner than normal; the boy's ties were too tight and the girl's dresses were too stiff. Everything just felt _wrong._ Hazel included. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, her breath unsteady. She hates this part, the waiting. It was worse than the names being called. Once the names were called, all of this could be over.

Their escort, Holly Hannily, had a broad smile on her face. _She thinks this is a party,_ Hazel thought bitterly. Everyone in the Capital did. The death of children across the country was just a game to them. They were just pawns.

Hazel knew that she really didn't have to worry about this. She'd only ever had to put her name in just two times. The odds of her being picked were almost unimaginable. That's what her mother had told her, at least. But is she was safe, why did she feel so nervous?

"And our female tribute is," Holly's smile faltered before reading the name. "Hazel Dara."

Hazel didn't move. She could feel her bones turning into stone and her heart began to slow. None of this was real. It had to be a dream, it _had_ to. She was thirteen, the odds of her getting reaped were impossible. All of this should have been impossible.

"Hazel, honey, why don't you come up?" Holly called, beckoning to her.

The Peacekeepers broke through the crowd, shoving the other girls out of the way before reaching Hazel. She shook her head, her thoughts rushing back to her.

"No!" Hazel screamed, her arms thrashing like a wild storm. She could feel her heartbeat in her chest, pounding like the beat of a thousand drums. "Please! No!"

She fell to her knees, letting the Peacekeepers drag her through the square. She could feel the blood pooling down them as tiny pieces of gravel dug into her skin. She couldn't look like this in front of the Capital, she had to at least appear strong.

Hazel raised her head slowly, her light brown hair shining in the sunlight. And with one strong, shallow breath, Hazel pushed herself on to her feet, shaking the guards off her arms. And with all of the might she could muster, Hazel walked to the front of the stage.


End file.
